Moving Ons
by Kay Willow
Summary: How a certain demon prince learned that a certain brother was half-human, and how he got over him.


**.moving ons.**

"I heard that young master Gwendal has returned alone."

"Really? What about Dan Hiri-sama?"

Out in the garden, a blond head jerked upright, eyes wide. He'd hardly heard anything other than 'Gwendal has returned', and with a desperate child's selective awareness, it seemed like nothing else could possibly have happened of any interest. Wolfram scrambled upright, abandoning his drawing to be blown away by the wind, and darted down the hallway.

_Aniue is home!_ he was thinking. _He'll know what to do!_

Gwendal was not in his chambers, and the throne room was empty. Wolfram found him in their mother's solar, with Cecilie and Conrad and a strange orange-haired boy in shabby clothes.

The sight of Conrad and the boy quelled some of Wolfram's impetuous rush. He said plaintively, "Aniue!" He wanted to talk to Gwendal alone.

He was ignored. He was about to repeat himself but Cecilie interrupted gently, "Come here, Wolf."

Only slightly sullen, and still wary of the two older boys, the blond boy trotted over to where his mother sat on the divan. She startled him by wrapping her arms around him and pulling him beside her, grip tight enough to be uncomfortable. Wolfram squirmed but she didn't let go, simply holding on. Some child's empathy kept him still while she mourned.

"I'm sorry, Conrad," she said, sounding infinitely sad herself.

"It was time," the brunet said, and, "if I may be excused."

Wolfram wished him away, wished all of them away, so he could tell Gwendal how they had been betrayed. For some reason Conrad looked straight at him, expression indeterminately sad. Suddenly less resentful, Wolfram buried his face in Cecilie's arms, avoiding his gaze guiltily. He didn't want Conrad to look at him like that.

When his brother left the room the strange boy stayed, although he watched Conrad leave. Gwendal said, "Is there anything I can do for you, Hahaue?"

Energized, Wolfram wriggled away from Cecilie, crying, "Aniue!" He grabbed Gwendal's hand to capture his attention.

"What is it?" Gwendal's stern expression grew slightly less so; it always did, and Wolfram was familiar with his oldest brother's inability to deny him anything.

"I want to talk to you," he insisted, "_alone_." He gave the stranger a mistrustful look.

The boy, who was about Conrad's age, put his hands on his hips and looked squarely at Wolfram -- all of Conrad's other friends talked down to him, or squatted as if sinking to his level. "I'm Yozak," he said. "I was a follower of Dan Hiri-sama's--"

If the past tense meant anything to Wolfram then, he brushed it away. There was only one thing that name meant to him right now. Mistrustfully he demanded, "Are you a _human_?"

"Wolf!" scolded Cecilie.

"What's wrong with being part human!"

He was about to retort but a gentle hand on his hair stopped him. Gwendal shook his head once, a wordless command. Wolfram could hardly believe that he had been rebuked, even so indirectly. Annoyed and confused, he tugged at his brother. "I need to talk to yoooou," he repeated.

"What happened to saying please?" the boy Yozak wanted to know, snide.

A quick glance around confirmed that Anissina wasn't around -- Gwendal's bossy friend was always after him to say please and thank you and he didn't dare disobey her; she had vicious pinching fingers -- so he snapped, "I don't have to listen to you! You're just..."

_You're just like Chichai Aniue,_ he realized, and turned away again, hiding his distress by pressing his cheek to Gwendal's leg. It was easier to fight tears when he thought no one could see him.

Gwendal sighed, and suddenly Wolfram was heaved into the air, startled out of his misery as his brother tucked him into the crook of his arms. "I'll be back," the tall man said, and added, "Take care of Hahaue."

Yozak looked startled. Wolfram couldn't resist the urge to stick his tongue out at him before he was whisked out the door and down the hall.

He felt safe for the moment, comforted obscurely. Gwendal would take care of everything for him -- he would make everything make sense again. That was what he always did. When the castle guard teased him or laughed at him, Gwendal was there to bark orders and make them aware of the consequences of their actions. When he had first gotten onto the back of a horse, it was Gwendal who softened the earth so he wasn't hurt when he fell.

Gwendal was his champion, the way Conrad had been his idol.

"Aniue," he said, quiet so that only he would hear, twining his fingers into the long ashen ponytail over Gwendal's shoulder. "Why would Hahaue marry a human?"

Humans weren't like them -- humans hated them. Their magic was hurtful and their civilizations were barbaric. Wolfram was young and he didn't understand all the reasons humans were the bad guys, but he remembered his father's disdain for them, and Gwendal's frequent anger towards them.

Half-breeds were the bane of society, everyone knew that. They were hardly allowed to work in Shin Makoku. It was impossible that someone Wolfram had loved and admired could be one of them.

"I asked myself that every day for decades," Gwendal said grimly. "When they first got married-- I won't bore you with the story." The blond was not terribly interested in weddings at this stage in his life; swords and horses were much more interesting. "But I wonder..."

He didn't continue. Wolfram pushed himself upright in an attempt to get a look at his face, but Gwendal's expression was distant.

"What about Chichai Aniue?" he demanded. "He's--" He couldn't even say it, just thinking it was breaking his heart all over again.

Gwendal said firmly, "Conrad is Conrad. He will have to prove himself." The tall Mazoku shifted, collecting Wolfram and separating them. He set the boy on the ground and stood again, looking off outside, far away. "We all will," he said.

Wolfram wasn't sure what had happened, how he had been left alone and confused, his beloved brothers scattered away from him. He scrubbed at his eyes, even though they were dry, and promised himself that he wasn't going to be weak, he couldn't let it hurt him. Who cared about Conrad anyway? He was just some half-breed. Wolfram had been tricked, deceived, but now he knew and he wasn't going to fall for that again.

He didn't feel like drawing anymore. Instead he went inside, eventually wandering into the armory. For the next few hours he would stare at the rows of weaponry and lose himself in the reflection of countless razor-sharp blades where he saw himself alone and strong.


End file.
